Sunday, March 1, 2015

I had a lot of time to think and reflect during my recent trip to Laos and Myanmar. I came back more spiritually, emotionally and mentally refreshed and with that, realized it was time to let go of my race gear from my previous life as an Ironman triathlete. Will I ever race Ironmans again? Never say never but it would take a huge "something" for that to happen. I must admit, luck was on my side as my asking prices probably left some room for negotiation but my buyers never asked. Last week, I let go of my Zipp 404s to a woman in the southbay who will put good use of them. Yesterday was a bit tougher as I bid farewell to my beloved Cervelo P2C. I sold it to a friend of mine who shared the same coach as me. She will be using Chase (bike's name) as a second race bike for her trainer and also as her non-racing travel bike. So, already, Chase is scheduled for some wanderlust adventures!

I bought Chase from a shop that is no longer in business in the Cow Hollow neighborhood of San Francisco, a shop called Bike Nut. When I brought Chase home that July of 2007, I was afraid of it. Intimidated by it. I did my first Ironman that next month on my old Klein road bike (which eventually went to another owner) but soon after, started bonding with Chase and the rest is history as some of you may remember (this blog started as an ironman training blog logging in all my training hours for many years). This bike has been with me through many highs and lows as I road hours and hours of heart rate regulated intervals along Nicasio road in Marin and my favorite Saturday early morning training loop along Panoramic Hwy, Stinson Beach, Olema, Pt Reyes, Nicasio, Fairfax and back to Sausalito. So, with that, I bid Chase farewell. 5 years, 6 Ironman training seasons, 5 Ironman bike legs finishes, countless training races leading up to the Ace, countless hours and miles, laughters, tears, even a little bit of blood (broken blood vessel in my nose during a compu-trainer class) and of course the flattery compliments it received on the road. Thank you for therapy and good times! A gal and her bike.

Saturday, February 21, 2015

I recently read an article on Elephant Journal that was mostly right on point...in a walking contradiction type of way. Mostly. Had to share with my fellow Aquarius ladies out in the world!The Aquarius Woman.

A lightning bolt strikes, the sky clears, and Miss. Aquarius skips out of the smoky aftermath, with flowers in her hair and turquoise mala beads strung around her wrists.

Her long skirt flows in the breeze, and she breathes in, ready to take flight.

The world feels wide open, juicy and full of possibility, just the way she likes.

She strums a guitar and laughs out loud, leaping and twirling and turning down the street.

She’s a shock-wave, a lightning bolt, a twirling tornado, a powerful pulse of electromagnetic energy.

She is no joke.

She will change completely in a fraction of a second, growing strange sparkly wings, shedding her skin ferociously to take flight into a whirling gust of wind.

Dare anyone think they own her?

Dare anyone try to keep her?

She’s.

Gone.

She will never stand for a caged life, even if fighting for freedom hurts like hell.

She’s born for the breeze and she knows it.

She is god damn electric.

She will go outside and dance wildly in the world’s sobbing tears, the salty drops soaking her vintage floral dress through and through, as she closes her eyes and drinks it in like nourishing mango nectar.

She knows that pain and sadness and shock and failure are inherently creative forces, necessary as air, inspiring as art.

She’s unafraid of solitude and embarks on solo adventures, spreading her wings wide, breathing in the sacred spaciousness of crisp mountain air and salty ocean sunrises.

She’s a wise woman, a mysterious creature, an intriguing mirage, constantly on the move, always ever so slightly out of reach.

But—behind her cool confidence and wild-child exterior, she’s secretly scared and vulnerable and guarded as f*ck.

She will find a fellow adventurer one day and bare her heart; it will be beautiful, like a breezy mountain meadow drenched in sunbeams, bursting with heavenly honeysuckle blossoms and bright wildflowers.

She will love passionately and strangely and freely and unconditionally.

But, she will always—first and foremost—be her own woman.

She will not belong to anyone.

Because she is not meant to.

She belongs to the breeze, to the stormy night sky, to the frenetic pulsing heartbeat of the entire world.

She belongs to starry nebulas and strange circus songs and shocking moments of revelation.